Where the Heart Is
by LadyKnightOfHollyrose
Summary: "Password." Damian scowled at the young voices he could hear giggling through the door. Two familiar pairs of eyes peered up at him through the letter flap, utterly unrepentant. "If I were anything but completely human, I would be ramming myself into the door instead of wasting daylight trying to reason with you." DickDami, Zombie Apocalypse AU, Oneshot


**The Trope Meme  
**_13: [Zombie] Apocalypse [AU]_  
**Summary: **"Password."

Damian scowled at the young voices he could hear giggling through the door. Two familiar pairs of eyes peered up at him through the letter flap, utterly unrepentant.

"If I were anything but completely human, I would be ramming myself into the door instead of wasting daylight trying to reason with you."

**. . .**

**Where the Heart Is**

**. . .**

_"This is the way the world ends; not with a bang or a whimper, but with zombies breaking down the back door"_

_—__**Hollowland**__, Amanda Hocking_

"Password."

Damian scowled at the young voices he could hear giggling through the door. Two familiar pairs of eyes peered up at him through the letter flap, utterly unrepentant. He had not been able to get back to the safehouse in almost a month. With the last correspondence he had received being from a fortnight ago, just before his phone had died for good, and with the code changing at random there was no way that the last password would be of any use.

"If I were anything but completely human, I would be ramming myself into the door instead of wasting daylight trying to reason with you." His sneer was softened slightly by the roll of his eyes. "Where is Grayson?"

If he strained his hearing, Damian could hear the two voices conferring in hushed tones. Then one of the boys cleared his throat.

"Nope, you gotta have the password."

Damian swore under his breath (much to the amusement of his audience, if their giggles were anything to go by), hefting his rucksack so that the strap sat more comfortably on his shoulder.

Then he decided to change tact.

"Well, that _is_ a shame. I suppose I'll just have to take my chili dogs elsewhere."

There was a short pause as this was taken into consideration. Then the lock clicked open to a disgruntled cry of "Jay, _no_!" just as Damian had known it would.

A face poked out around the door, eyes wide with excitement. "Did you _really_ bring us stuff for chili dogs?"

Damian gave a small nod as he stepped into the building around the boy and pulled the door firmly shut behind him. "I even managed to find some Froot Loops for Grayson. No milk, though."

Jason snorted, still scrutinising the backpack with barely contained glee. "He won't care."

Damian's lips quirked up slightly, acknowledging the truth of the statement. He could already picture Grayson's delight at the amount of provisions he had been able to gather. Still, some milk would have been nice to bring back for the younger children.

"Though, y'know," Jason continued, turning his head to address his partner in crime (who was currently glaring balefully back at him in perceived betrayal), "If he'd just said that in the first place we would've had to let him in anyway."

Tim seemed to mull this over, legs swinging slightly from the edge of the desk he had retreated to when the door had opened. He bit his lip and furrowed his brows before finally giving a grudging nod.

"I guess so. We should get Babs to pick the next password; Dick always chooses cereal." Tim wrinkled his nose, sliding down from his perch to join Jason by the entrance again and eye Damian. "You should go up and see him. He went to check on Roy, but he's been worried since you didn't show up for so long."

Damian suppressed a wince at Tim's accusatory tone; Dick had enough to worry about already, after all. Not that Damian could have returned any earlier with the way his usual supplier's resources were drying up. He'd had to travel much further afield to gather enough food to tide their group over for the coming months. He had only returned as quickly as he had by travelling through the night, despite the dangers it had presented.

Biting back the urge to ask what exactly had happened to Harper, Damian decided to go take a look for himself. As he climbed the stairs up to the next floor he could hear Tim scolding Jason; just as he reached the top, Jason's answering whine of "but Tim, _chili dogs_" made him smirk.

He was careful to skirt the squeaky board on the last step, knowing how likely it was to be the cause of disrupting someone's afternoon nap at this time. He peered around the corner into what had once been an open plan office, noting the cluster of make-shift cots in the centre of the room. A quick head count told him that they had gained a child in his absence; the redhead had curled up in one of Conner's ratty flannel shirts, snuffling a little in his sleep.

Donna had propped herself up on one of the filing cabinets that had been pushed to the walls, watching over the children as they rested. A small, dark haired girl had fallen asleep on her lap, and it took a moment for Damian to recognise her as Lian Harper with the way she had burrowed her face into Donna's shoulder. Donna gave Damian a tired smile and tilted her head in the direction of the kitchen as she shifted slightly, carefully laying her charge down on an unoccupied spot of the blanket nest.

By the time she joined Damian in the tiny kitchen, he had almost emptied his bag of its contents, laying the spoils of his trip over the counters so that they could take stock.

Knowing that a hug would not be welcome, Donna took one of his hands into hers instead. "I'm glad you got back safely, Damian… It's been a rough few weeks, and the kids have been missing your stories."

At that, Damian returned the wan smile being directed at him with one of his own, pulling his hands back to start putting away the tins he had been dragging about for the last few weeks away. Donna joined him, and they worked together in silence for a few moments before Damian's curiosity got the better of him.

"What happened to Harper?"

Donna's hands stilled, and she sighed. Her lips were taut with worry, and Damian had to take the plastic bottle she had been holding to keep her from crushing it in her tight grip.

"He has a gash in his arm from when he went out last week. He hasn't been _bitten_, but it's infected and we can't get his fever down…" Her hands worked almost mechanically as she pulled the bag of half-mouldy potatoes Damian had managed to scrounge up three days before over, picking up a knife to salvage what was edible. "It doesn't look good, Damian."

In all likelihood the limb would have to be amputated to keep the virus from spreading through Roy's body; Damian grimaced at the thought. There may have been little love lost between the two of them, but Damian would never have wished such a fate upon the other. Still… it would keep Roy on the right side of dead, and with a daughter to care for Damian knew that Roy would push through where others might have preferred to be put out of their misery for good.

Potatoes chopped and ready to cook, Donna wiped her hands clean as she surveyed Damian. Her gaze turned assessing for a moment as she sized him up. Then her expression cleared.

"I'm going to send Dick down. Make sure he eats something."

Damian watched her leave with a frown on his face. When Dick appeared, edging quietly into the room, it quickly morphed into a full scowl.

Dick either didn't notice or was ignoring his sour countenance; his eyes lit up at the sight of Damian, putting a little much needed colour back into his cheeks. His grin was wide as he swept Damian up into an enthusiastic hug. Damian didn't protest the contact, even managing to relax a little into his embrace. When Dick drew away, however, he felt his hands rise of their own accord to frame Dick's face.

His fingers traced lightly over the dark smudges under those bright eyes and followed the worry lines that had deepened over his absence.

Smile still in place, Dick took hold of his wrist and brought the palm of Damian's hand to his lips in a chaste kiss.

"Welcome home, Damian."

There had been a time when Damian had scoffed at the idea that 'coming home' was any different to commandeering an acquaintance's couch or crashing at a hotel for the night. Still, things always seemed to be different where Dick was concerned, and this particular instance was in no way an exception.

It made him all the more irritable at the thought that Dick had been neglecting himself, even if it was for the good of others. _Especially_ as it was for the good of others.

Damian tugged his hand out of Dick's grip, reaching out behind him until his fingers curled around what he was looking for. He shoved the box in his hand at Dick's nose, prompting a small noise of surprise from the other as he growled the curt order of "_Eat_," at the older man.

Damian took Dick's momentary distraction to find a bowl for the cereal. His back was still turned as he rooted around for a spoon when Dick finally pulled the box away from his face. He let out a bright laugh of delight when he saw what it was; the reaction made trekking so far out for supplies completely worth the trouble.

"Froot Loops! I didn't think there were any left!" Arms reached out to wrap around his midsection from behind as Dick hooked his chin over Damian's shoulder. Damian could feel the way Dick's lips curved on his neck, warming his skin when Dick hummed in content. "And of course, they say good things come in threes, right? Since you came back today," he said, counting off by tapping a finger on Damian's stomach for each point, "and you brought me cereal, I figure I'm still due one more good thing."

Damian tilted his chin down, very deliberately locking eyes with Dick as his lips curled up in a slow smirk. "You can only have thing three after you've had something to eat. And we're not next to a room full of sleeping children." He slipped out of Dick's grip again, grabbing the box and filling a bowl to the brim. His tone turned serious as he passed it and the spoon he'd retrieved at Dick, the playfulness seeping from his gaze. "When was the last time you ate?"

Dick looked sheepish under the intense, disapproving scrutiny. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and twirled the spoon between his fingers as he looked away. He opened his mouth to speak-

-and was saved from answering when the kitchen door slid open slightly, and the new redhead peered curiously through the gap at them.

Setting the bowl onto the counter, Dick crouched down with a gentle smile. "What's up, Colin?"

Colin bit his lip, the flannel shirt he'd been using as a blanket still held tightly in one fist. "I, uh, needed the bathroom. But Conner said I'm not supposed to go on my own."

Damian narrowed his eyes at Dick. "_I'll_ take him. You aren't going anywhere until that bowl is empty."

Dick rolled his eyes. "Colin, this is Damian. He just got back toda-"

"The one who tells the stories?"

"The very same," Dick chuckled.

Brow raised, Damian looked between them for an explanation. It was Colin who piped up with a grin. "Steph told me you do the voices and everything!"

This only caused his brow to rise further up his forehead. "I didn't realise she enjoyed them so much with how often she interrupts…" Damian shrugged, striding towards the door. "Anyway, let's get to that bathroom before we have a puddle to clean up. And when we get back, I think I promised Jason a story from when Dick thought mullets were a good idea."

Colin sputtered, unable to suppress his laughter, and Dick's indignant "_Hey!_" followed them out of the room and down the corridor.

Damian smirked.

It was good to be home.

~Hollyrose~

**Notes:**

I've spent about a week trying to beat this thing into submission, and I'm stil not entirely pleased with it ^^' I suppose it doesn't exactly help that the only source of knowledge I have for the whole apocalypse/zombie genre is from fic I've read (which is still not a lot).

As for the ages – I've basically just messed around with them. Dick, Damian, Babs, Roy and Donna are the adults and anyone else mentioned is a child. Yeah, I don't know either.

While I was looking for quotes, I came across this one and was extremely tempted to use it instead:

"_I just find it interesting that kids apparently used to cry when Bambi's mother died. George and I both held our breaths, and then cheered when she didn't reanimate and try to eat her son._"  
― Mira Grant, _Deadline_

Huge thank you to aroundthecoffeepot for putting up with my freaking out over knowing zilch about zombies and pointing out my many _many _silly mistakes! If there are still any left, it's because I've been careless (feel free to point them out!)


End file.
